


santa baby

by lazyfish



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Car Sex, Door Sex, Edging, F/M, Impregnation, copious amounts of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:28:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazyfish/pseuds/lazyfish
Summary: It's Christmastime, and Jemma wants a baby. There's only one way to get there.
Relationships: Lance Hunter/Jemma Simmons
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	santa baby

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LibbyWeasley](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibbyWeasley/gifts).



The worst part about having American friends was their tendency to celebrate Thanksgiving. Thursday night girl’s night had to be moved to Saturday, and Jemma loathed any change in routine - especially because the bar they went to was always more crowded on Saturday evenings (as was the tendency for most bars). Their table in the back corner was sheltered from the worst of the din, but it was still louder than Jemma’s preference.

“I am so glad that I can finally start putting up Christmas decorations without Mack yelling at me,” Bobbi sighed as she collapsed back into their booth, a drink in either hand. She pushed one drink across the table to Elena while keeping the other in front of herself.

“He’s a stickler for doing Christmas the right way,” Elena agreed with the barest of smirks. “At least he’s pretty.”

“He is,” Bobbi agreed, taking a sip of her drink and letting out a pleased noise. “Jem, are you doing anything special for Christmas this year? Your first one as a married woman!”

“It’s really not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal?” Daisy sputtered. “Where’s the Christmas romance, Simmons? You can kiss in the snow and go on sleigh rides together and -”

“Daisy, you are aware that my husband and I have spent several winters together as a couple, correct?” Jemma asked, arching her eyebrows. She and Hunter had gone through just about every holiday movie cliché in the three years they’d dated, from the all-important mistletoe kiss to him wrapping his jacket around her shoulders when she’d gotten too cold during a walk in the park. Just because they were married now didn’t mean all of their previous relationship milestones were erased.

“But you’re _married_ now! You know how it goes. You think everything is fine but the romance starts to fade, then one day you wake up and realize you don’t even know the man next to you!”

“I think maybe you’ve watched too many Hallmark movies,” Elena said with a throaty laugh.

“She definitely has,” Jemma said, giving Daisy her best glare - which admittedly wasn’t all that intimidating. “I’m perfectly happy in my relationship and I’m sure our first Christmas as husband and wife will be lovely.”

“But it should be more than lovely! It should be _magical_!”

“Careful, Dais, Jemma doesn’t believe in magic,” Bobbi warned, eyes twinkling. “Not even the Harry Potter kind. Remember that time she wrote that essay about the genetics of magic and -”

“We don’t need to relive that, Bobbi, thank you.” Jemma’s cheeks burned as she avoided her friend’s gaze.

“I’m just saying. You two aren’t planning on going anywhere so why not use the money you could’ve spent on plane tickets back home for something fun?”

“We’re giving it to charity,” Jemma answered immediately. Even if neither she nor her husband were practicing Christians, the one thing she did like about the Christmas season was the spirit of giving. She and Hunter didn’t even like their families, and the price of a transatlantic flight could easily help give someplace warm to stay for the holidays - it wasn’t a particularly hard decision. 

“Ugh. Why are you two such saints?”

“Do _not_ call Lance Hunter a saint!” Bobbi snorted. 

“Yeah. We all know how much he enjoys sinning. Especially with Jemma.” Elena smirked.

“You know, I don’t tease the rest of you mercilessly about your relationships!” Jemma sucked down half of her cocktail in one gulp. 

“You just make it so easy, Simmons. The good-girl façade, the uncontrollable blushing whenever someone mentions sex… What are we supposed to do?” Daisy laughed.

“And speaking of sex, _when_ do I get a niece or nephew?” Bobbi asked. “God knows Sousa’s dragging his feet and ever since Kora figured out she’s a hopeless lesbian my choices for nibling creators have been severely limited.”

“You and Elena have been with Mack just as long as I’ve been with Hunter and you don’t see me asking you when I’ll get a nibling!” Jemma said indignantly. 

“We’re still playing rock paper scissors over which of us has to carry the spawn,” Bobbi said. “So far we’re at best of one hundred and seven.”

“If neither of you want to be pregnant you could just adopt,” Daisy pointed out. 

“Mack really wants at least one biological kid,” Bobbi sighed. “And after what happened, I don’t blame him.” Jemma winced. They never really talked about Mack’s daughter and what happened to her, but she knew it was still something that her friend thought about often. 

“We don’t want to start the adoption process too early and wind up not being able to follow through because one of us gets knocked up,” Elena added.

Daisy nodded and continued the conversation with Bobbi and Elena about their adoption plans; she and Sousa were probably going to do the same thing whenever Sousa got the guts to ask her to marry him. At least now no one was teasing Jemma about what she and her husband would get up to this Christmas.

\---

“Do you think something’s wrong with me?” Jemma blurted out at breakfast the next morning.

Hunter blinked. “Wrong with you?”

“The girls were asking last night about when I’m going to get pregnant.” Jemma stabbed at a bite of eggs with a sigh.

“Love, we’ve only been trying for a month,” Hunter said. “I know you like to be in control of things, but this isn’t something you can force.”

“But if something’s wrong -”

“Jemma. There is no reason right now to believe something is wrong.” Hunter reached across the table to grab her hand, running his thumb along her knuckles. “The doctor said it’s only concerning if it takes longer than a year, alright?”

Jemma pouted. “But I want a baby by this time next year!”

“I know you do. And I promise I am doing my very best to contribute to that project.” Hunter’s lips quirked into a smile. “But I would figure you would know better than most that we can’t rush biology.”

She sighed. “We can try.”

“We really can’t.” Hunter swiped his thumb across her knuckles one more time before releasing her hand. “We can practice, though.”

Jemma managed a small smile. “We can.”

“What does your schedule say about today?” Hunter asked as he began clearing the kitchen table.

“My schedule?”

“Love, I’m not dumb. I know you’ve been keeping us on a sex every other day schedule to maximize fertility or whatever.”

Jemma huffed softly. “Don’t you think that takes some of the… magic out of it?”

“Any time I get to be with you is magical,” Hunter said, sincerely enough for Jemma’s heart to melt a little in her chest. 

“Would you object to a little more magic?” she asked finally. 

“...Is that a code word for a drug?” Hunter dropped the dishes into the sink before returning to the table. He didn’t stop at his chair, though, instead rounding the table to stand behind Jemma’s.

“What? No!”

“Then no, I would not object.” He leaned down to kiss her cheek, then her neck. “So are we practicing now, or what?”

Jemma reached up to pat his cheek. “I think I have some research to do before we can get around to any more practice.”

Hunter whined. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“Trust me.” Jemma turned her head to kiss his lips. “It’ll be worth the wait.”

\---

“Have you ever noticed how sexual this song is?” Kora asked, leaning back against the plush cushions of the booth. The bar had switched to Christmas songs for the holiday season, with the occasional secular winter song thrown in for good measure. _Santa Baby_ was playing over the speakers, the singer crooning softly about all of the things on her Christmas list.

“I don’t think anyone hasn’t noticed how sexual this song is,” Bobbi answered. “It’s not like they try to hide it.”

“Hey, Jemma, maybe you can take some tips from the song!” Kora suggested.

Jemma glared at Daisy. “You told her I need tips for my sex life!?” Kora had missed last week since she had spent Thanksgiving out of town with her father and hadn’t returned until Sunday night, so Jemma had expected Daisy to fill her in - but not _that_ much.

“I didn’t! I just mentioned how married women are statistically less likely to be satisfied sexually and she extrapolated.”

“Because I’m the only married woman she knows,” Jemma said, continuing to glare.

“I know more married women. But you’re the only one whose sex life I’d talk about,” Kora chirped.

“Thank you, Kora, that makes me feel _so_ much better.”

“I don’t think Hunter is the sugar daddy type,” Elena said, twirling her cocktail straw between her fingers. 

“Jemma wouldn’t be asking for a ring or a car,” Bobbi pointed out. “Maybe a microscope or a library.”

“He already got me a ring,” Jemma said defensively. There was a different kind of ring she would love - though that would be for Hunter and not for her. Jemma squeezed her thighs together; thinking about her husband in a cock ring wasn’t appropriate for a public place, especially when her libido had been through the roof recently. That was probably to be blamed on her insistence they only have sex every other day. Jemma sighed. It would’ve been much more fun if she had just allowed them to have sex as often as they wanted instead of Googling what fertility doctors thought. They all disagreed with each other, too, which was supremely unhelpful.

“Platinum mines are probably unethical, too,” Bobbi mused.

“Almost certainly,” Elena agreed.

Jemma lost track of the conversation after that, too distracted by fantasies of her husband, a cock ring, and several fantastic orgasms to be able to focus on the week’s gossip and banter. She sent Hunter a quick text asking for him to wait up for her, and nearly began salivating when he sent her a _yes ma’am_ in response.

Begging off early wasn’t easy with her group of friends. She couldn’t use the excuse of not feeling well without kicking up another storm of pregnancy questions and they all knew her husband well enough to know that him asking her to come home meant she was leaving to have sex - which just left the excuse of work, which Jemma loathed to use. She used it anyway, though, after the third time in as many minutes she considered visiting the bathroom just to masturbate. She was above masturbating in bar bathrooms now that she was a married woman (most of the time).

The drive home was enough to push her to the brink of insanity, and Jemma had her skirt down within seconds of closing the front door.

“Welcome home, Dr. Simmons.”

Jemma looked up to see her husband standing in the foyer, entirely naked, and almost cried in relief.

“Cock. In me. Now.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Hunter lifted her up effortlessly, Jemma’s legs wrapping around his waist on reflex.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Jemma moaned when the head of his cock nudged against her lips. She reached her hand between their bodies, guiding him into her with one smooth movement.

“What’s gotten into you?” Hunter murmured, mouthing at her neck as he backed them against the front door.

“I don’t like my schedule,” Jemma gasped, arching into his touch when he tweaked her nipple.

“Who are you and what have you done with my wife?”

“I can’t keep my hands off of you,” she breathed as he began sucking bruises into her neck. “Every other day is dumb. Once a day is dumb. I just - _oooh_.” Jemma’s voice trembled to a halt when Hunter’s hand found her clit.

“I follow your lead with anything baby-making,” Hunter said, mouth hot against her skin. He began thrusting into her, building a steady pace as he continued to speak. “And if that means getting to fuck you more often I won’t complain.”

Jemma’s insides clenched when Hunter said the word _fuck_ , and again at the strangled noise he made in response to the first tightening of her muscles around his cock. He hadn’t faltered despite his evident distraction, and Jemma dug her heel into his ass to urge him deeper and faster. He didn’t disappoint, driving into her while continuing to play with her clit.

“Hunter,” Jemma moaned warningly.

“I know, love, I know, I’ve got you.” Hunter’s stubble scraped across her skin as he ran a series of kisses up her neck. “Come on, Jemma, I’ve got you.”

She let out a keening cry, but it wasn’t until five seconds later that her body finally complied and let her tumble into her orgasm. Hunter thrust a few more times before finding his own release, sliding Jemma a few inches up the door with his final spending thrust.

“Christ,” Hunter panted when they had both come down. 

“Yes,” Jemma agreed, pushing her sweaty hair back from her forehead with a huffing laugh. “Are you going to put me down?”

Hunter stepped back from the door so she could unwrap her legs from around his waist, and Jemma tested her weight before letting go of him completely.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you’d gone commando, wife of mine,” Hunter said as he picked up her skirt. “Is that a habit?”

“You need easy access, don’t you?” Jemma said primly.

“You’re just mad I ripped that nice pair.”

“I’m not mad. I’m just as impatient as you are.”

“ _Jemma_.”

“They were expensive!” she finally protested. “And they made my arse look nice.”

“Your arse always looks nice.”

“You have to say that, you’re my husband!”

“I am.” Hunter murmured, bending down to kiss one of the red marks he had left on her neck. “And as such I know better than to lie to you, so I must say your arse always looks nice.”

Jemma sighed fondly. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

\---

Jemma woke up three days later with something hard pressed into the small of her back and an unmistakable wetness between her thighs.

“Jemma,” Hunter whispered as his thumb stroked along her hip bone. “Are you awake yet, Jemma?”

“You woke me up from a very pleasant dream,” Jemma murmured. “I hope you’re planning on making it worth my while.”

“What kind of dream?” Hunter breathed against the nape of her neck. His hand slid under the waistband of her panties and Jemma squirmed when his fingers found the lips of her pussy. 

“You know what kind.” His fingers were coated in her slick now, so he had to know she had been dreaming of sex… again.

“What was so pleasant about it?” Hunter asked, running his fingers through her folds lazily.

“I was giving you a lapdance and you were extremely responsive.” Jemma’s breath caught when Hunter slid a finger inside her, her entire body tensing momentarily.

“Was I?”

“You were,” she confirmed, trying not to let her voice waver and show how affected she was by his fingering. “You were about to cum all over my tits before you woke me up.”

“A pity.” Hunter’s voice was hoarser than before, and deeper too. “But I have a different idea of how this should go, if you’ll let me.”

“Please.”

Hunter withdrew his hand and Jemma bit back a whine at the loss of contact. He flipped her over onto her stomach, and goosebumps rippled across Jemma’s skin when he pulled down her pajama shorts and panties, exposing her pussy to the cold morning air. He stripped her shirt off next, not even pausing to play with her nipples before returning to business.

“You need a vibrator?” Hunter asked as he stripped out of his own underthings. 

“No, thank you.” Previous times when they’d tried this position she’d had mixed results without the vibrator; sometimes the pressure of grinding her clit into the bedspread was enough to make her orgasm, and other times not. “Did you read the article I sent you yesterday?”

“I did,” Hunter answered, settling himself on the bed. “Did you want to… practice?”

“It might be worthwhile.” The article in question had actually been about artificial insemination and how to make it most effective, but the scientific basis behind it would work for natural insemination as well - it posited the number of orgasms a woman needed to have, and at what points in the insemination, for it to be most effective in resulting in pregnancy. In short: Jemma needed to finish after Hunter, which was a rare occurrence in their house thanks to Hunter’s attentiveness and stamina.

“You tell me what you need, alright?” Hunter asked. His hands came to rest on her hips and Jemma could feel the heat radiating off him as he moved closer to her.

“Of course.” Jemma trusted Hunter implicitly. Of course that extended to the bedroom and getting her needs satisfied.

He slid into her, exhaling shakily until he had bottomed out. He had done the same thing thousands of times before but Jemma always appreciated the moment Hunter took in between the first thrust and the second; he wasn’t just letting them both adjust to the changes in their bodies, he was _savoring_ it. 

Jemma almost hated how much she enjoyed being under Hunter - how much she loved the opportunity to just lay there and let him have his way with her. He was different than most of her previous partners in the way he approached times like this, too. She wasn’t just a fucktoy he was using to get off; she was Jemma, his wife, who he had to somehow bring to orgasm without any help on her part. He seemed to take it as a challenge, and Hunter had always been good at rising to challenges. 

Heat began to bubble in her stomach and Jemma welcomed it, moaning breathily when Hunter ground his hips against hers and forced her clit to rub enticingly against the bedspread. He repeated the motion and Jemma could practically see the smirk on his face when her second moan was louder.

Hunter didn’t seem in a hurry to finish anytime soon (which made sense, since it was a Sunday morning and they had all the time in the world) but Jemma couldn’t say the same of herself. She canted her hips backwards slightly, just enough so that each time Hunter pounded into her her clit dragged against the soft cotton sheet under her.

“ _Lance_ ,” Jemma bit out when Hunter shifted his hips and changed the angle of his thrusts in a way that made her see stars. “Oh, God, please tell me you’re close, because I’m gonna -”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence before the stars exploded into supernovas and Jemma tumbled into an orgasm that left her with no idea of which way was up or down. She curled her fingers into the sheet under her and used it to find gravity again, pulling herself back to reality with a strangled groan.

“Shit.”

“You’re alright, love,” Hunter said when she rolled back over. His cock was in his hand, still hard and weeping precum. “Let’s make your dream a reality, yeah? Let me cum on your tits?”

Jemma nodded, beckoning him closer so she could be the one to finish him off. 

“Such a good boy,” she murmured as she wrapped her hand around him. His cock was already slick with her juices and his precum and her fist glided easily up and down his length. “Such a pretty prick. Feels so good inside me. Makes me cum so hard.” She smiled, using her free hand to palm her tit. “It’s your turn now. Cum for me, Lance.”

Three more pumps of her hand later Jemma had white splattered on her chest and a spent husband sitting on her thighs.

“I think we might need to work on your orgasm control,” Hunter said when he had caught his breath again.

“I was much better at controlling myself when we were first dating.” Jemma smiled wryly. “You’ve spoiled me.”

“If you got to see you cum you’d understand why.” Hunter leaned forward to peck her mouth. “I’m sure we can figure something out.”

Jemma grinned. “I’m sure we can.”

\---

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going, or am I supposed to guess?”

“Neither,” Jemma answered primly, flicking on her turn signal before maneuvering the car down a back street. 

“ _Jemma_.”

“Lance,” she answered, ignoring the whine in his voice. 

“Are you going to murder me?”

Jemma snorted. “I would at least wait until I was pregnant to murder you. Artificial insemination sounds expensive. And messy.”

“Thanks, Jem, that makes me feel so much better. And, by the way, you would go insane trying to raise a baby by yourself. No schedule.”

“I can get a baby on a schedule!”

“Maybe, but you can’t control _everything_.”

“Contrary to your beliefs, I can occasionally be spontaneous.”

“Oh, so you _didn’t_ plan this car ride at least three days in advance?” 

“...I didn’t say that.” Jemma said, glad the dark of the night hid her blush.

“You are ridiculous,” Hunter sighed. “But I am so, so in love with you.”

Jemma's shoulders relaxed. “And I’m very lucky you are.”

She turned her attention back to the road so she could pull into their destination - a small lookout point on the outskirts of town that hardly got any traffic this time of night. It was safe but private, exactly the sort of place Jemma had been looking for.

Hunter moved to open his door but Jemma stopped him with a click of the lock.

“You’re really not helping my murdering fears here, love.”

“How about now?” Jemma asked, clambering over the center console to sit in Hunter’s lap. Admittedly this had been much sexier in her head, but if there was one thing Jemma Simmons was good at, it was sticking to a plan despite unforeseen snafus.

“You could still strangle me, I -”

“Husband,” Jemma interrupted, peeling her shirt off over her head. “Try to think a little less cell block and a little more tango.”

“I should’ve never let you watch _Chicago_ ,” Hunter muttered, though he was clearly more focused on her breasts than being snarky now that her shirt was off.

Jemma reached down to find the lever to lower Hunter’s seat back, almost losing her balance when the seat pitched suddenly.

“Is there a reason we’re here instead of home?” Hunter asked. “Read an article lately about conception rates in vehicles?”

 _Heard a song lately about a fancy car, actually,_ Jemma smirked to herself. _A ‘54 convertible, to be precise._ “We’ve had sex every place in our house in the last week.” Not that she was complaining about the daily sex, but Jemma appreciated variety, and it was difficult find when they were more or less restricted to penis-in-vagina sex for the purpose of baby-making.

“Not the -”

“We’re not having sex on the table. It’s where we eat.” Jemma undid Hunter’s belt, then unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. 

“That’s what bleach was invented for.” Hunter’s grumbles were interrupted by his soft sigh when Jemma freed his cock from his boxers and began stroking it slowly.

“We can negotiate,” Jemma murmured, kissing her husband’s pulse point. 

“The only negotiation I’m interested in at the moment is negotiating my cock into you,” Hunter said, scrabbling for Jemma’s hips.

“Nuh uh,” Jemma tutted. “I’m coming second this time if it kills me.” As much as they had tried, in all of their past week of sexcapades Hunter hadn’t managed to beat Jemma to the finish line even once.

“Once again,” Hunter panted, “we’re talking about murder when we should be talking about something else.”

“Like how nice your prick looks?” Jemma asked, peering down at her husband through her lashes. “How good it feels in my hand?” She twisted her wrist on the next upstroke, enjoying the glide of Hunter’s soft, sensitive skin against her palm. 

“Yeah,” Hunter agreed, voice strained. “We can talk about that.”

“It’s a pretty prick,” Jemma said, running her thumb along the crown of his cock. “My favorite one.”

“Jemma,” Hunter wheezed when she pressed the pad of her thumb against his slit. “Stop teasing.”

“No,” Jemma answered sweetly. “I have to tease you or you’re going to be too much of a gentleman and I won’t get a baby.” Truthfully she knew the timing of the orgasms probably wasn’t _as_ instrumental as other factors, but Jemma relished the way Hunter’s eyes flashed when she mentioned _baby_. Anything that made this more of an interesting endeavor than just repeatedly having sex was worthwhile.

“ _Christ_ , Jem,” Hunter grunted when she added her other hand into the mix, fisting his shaft in one hand while playing with the crown of his cock in the other. “Please just let me -”

“I said no,” Jemma answered calmly, flicking the head of his cock. Hunter yelped at the touch, his hips jerking into her hand, and Jemma smirked. She did need to be careful - while she wanted Hunter to finish first, it also was of no use to her if he didn’t cum inside.

“You’re the worst.”

“Am I?” Jemma grinned, leaning down to suck the tip of Hunter’s cock into her mouth. He let out a long, low groan that sent a jolt of heat straight to Jemma’s core. It was about time for her to get her clothes off too.

She stripped out of her jeans when she got her mouth off Hunter’s cock (which wasn’t as quickly as she had anticipated, but really, how could she say no when her husband was moaning her name like that?), but didn’t bother with her underwear. 

“Happy now?” Jemma murmured as she began dragging her crotch along the length of Hunter’s cock.

His nostrils flared. “I’ll be _happy_ when I can get in you and finally blow, you fucking minx,” he growled.

“Are you sure?” Jemma asked, circling her hips teasingly. 

“Jemma Anne, I swear to God if I don’t get in you in the next ten seconds I am going to spank you until you can’t sit for a week!” Hunter snapped.

Well. She wouldn’t want to be spanked quite _that_ hard, would she?” Jemma reached between their bodies and moved the crotch of her underwear to the side, guiding Hunter’s prick into her in one smooth movement. The moan he let out when he bottomed out insdie of her might’ve been the singular most erotic thing Jemma had heard in her life, and she placed a lazy kiss to Hunter’s jaw in the moment before he began to move.

She knew it’d be over quickly for him, his harsh _Fuck, Jem_ panted out after only a few thrusts, but Jemma didn’t expect her own orgasm to follow quite so soon. If she’d had brain power to devote to anything other than gasping Hunter’s name she would’ve analyzed why, exactly, she’d cum so quickly, but for better or worse that wasn’t the case.

“You got what you wanted,” Hunter murmured as he brushed her hair back from her face.

“I think we need another trial run,” Jemma said, as seriously as she could manage with the post-coital hormones buzzing through her.

“Scientists,” Hunter said with a roll of his eyes.

(He smiled.)

\---

“Hunter,” Jemma gasped into the phone. “Oh, God, hurry!” Her fingertips grazed over her clit again and she let out a low groan that echoed in her chest.

“Jem? What’s wrong?” Hunter asked, the background noise from the bar filtering through over the phone.

“I’ve been touching myself since you left,” Jemma whimpered, “and I just got an alert that I’m ovulating and I need you to come home now so I can cum.” She shouldn’t have checked the goddamn app, not when she was so close to finishing, but it wasn’t her fault she recognized the distinctive notification sound.

“Hang on.” A few moments later the background noise dimmed, and Jemma guessed Hunter had stepped outside. “I’ll be home as soon as I can, but love, you can just finish now, I promise.”

“I can’t,” Jemma whined, thumb circling her clit despite her protestations.

“Why not?”

“Because I just - can’t!” Jemma huffed. “Not without you.” She had tried (kind of) but there was nothing appealing about finishing herself with a vibrator or her hand when her husband was just ten minutes away and could come home - with the added bonus of making a baby at the same time.

“You’re alright, Jem,” Hunter murmured calmy. “Do you want me to stay on the phone?”

“Please.”

“Okay, you’re okay. I just let Mack know I’m leaving and I’ll be right home.” Hunter paused, then chuckled. “I can’t believe I live a life where my wife being horny counts as an emergency.”

“You’re the worst,” Jemma huffed.

“You know I could just not come home…”

“You wouldn’t!”

“Haven’t you learned better than to test me, love?”

Jemma let out another whimper, feeling even more pathetic than before. 

“That’s what I thought. Now, tell me what you were thinking about while you touched yourself.”

“You,” Jemma answered immediately. 

“That’s very nice, Jem, but I was hoping for a little more detail,” Hunter said when after a minute she still hadn’t elaborated. “I know you can dirty talk better than that.”

Damnit. He was trying to kill her and she was letting him, because death by arousal was a wonderful way to go.

“I was thinking about you threatening to spank me,” Jemma said, rolling over onto her stomach in hopes it would help her resist the urge to tease herself further. “And how I wish you had.”

“You did what I asked you to,” Hunter said levelly. “Good girls don’t get spankings.”

“Are you saying you want me to be a bad girl, husband?”

“I never said that.” Hunter’s voice had gone low and husky, and Jemma considered that a point in her favor. She loved it when she was able to get him hot and bothered just with the power of suggestion and his own overactive imagination.

“As I recall you enjoyed it immensely when I was a little naughty,” Jemma purred. “Or was that some other man who asked me to take my tits out in public?”

“Do you want me to spank you when I get home, then?” Hunter asked. “Spank your arse until it’s bright red and then spank your clit so it can have a break?”

“Fuck.” Jemma fisted the soft cotton of the sheets, shockwaves of delight rippling under her skin at the thought of Hunter torturing her like that. If any man could talk her to orgasm it would be this one, and Jemma wasn’t sure she trusted herself not to go over the edge with the way she responded to his words.

“It’s alright, love,” Hunter soothed. “I won’t spank you until after I’ve jizzed in you.”

“Hurry,” Jemma keened, hips rolling and dragging her clit across the bedspread in the most enticing way. 

“I’m already speeding,” Hunter chuckled. “Are you going to meet me at the door?”

“Can’t move.” Jemma’s hips rolled again against her wishes, and she squeezed her fists tighter in a desperate attempt to anchor herself. If Hunter didn’t get home soon she was going to orgasm whether or not either of them wanted her to.

“You’re in the bedroom?”

“Where else would I masturbate?”

“Jemma, love, that’s not a question you can ask after defiling every surface in our house.”

Even the table, which Hunter had finally convinced her of that very moment. Jemma inhaled shakily, eyes slipping shut. “Please,” she whimpered.

“I’m on our street, love, just a little longer.” Hunter kept up with his detailing where he was - passing the neighbor’s house, in the driveway, getting his keys in the front door - until Jemma could hear him pounding up the stairs. He had already stripped out of his pants by the time she flipped back over, an impressive erection tenting his boxers.

“How much time do we have?” he asked as he peeled those off, too.

“Thirty seconds,” Jemma answered tightly. She was going to _die_ if it took any longer than that.

“You’ve been edging for an hour and a half and now you can’t wait a whole minute?” Hunter asked, stroking his cock frantically.

“I can’t wait a whole minute _because_ I’ve been edging an hour and a half,” Jemma retorted. Hunter sat on the bed and Jemma crawled on top of him, hand shaking slightly. “You should know that.”

“I’ve edged you for longer,” Hunter said, placing an open-mouthed kiss on her neck.

Jemma just shook her head. She didn’t feel like arguing - she just wanted a cock in her, _now_. Hunter was all too happy to oblige, and once again it was over for them both in what would’ve been an embarrassingly short amount of time if they hadn’t both been winding each other up for far too long.

“So,” Hunter said as he guided his spent cock out of her. “If you’re ovulating right now, that means we have… twenty-four hours to get as much sex in as possible?”

“Twelve, if we want to be safe.”

Hunter licked his lips. “How naughty do you think you can be then, love?”

Jemma’s pussy throbbed. “As naughty as you’d like.”

\---

Jemma had already let Hunter sleep in far too long.

“Wake up,” she muttered, poking her husband’s cheek. He didn’t stir. “Wake up!” Jemma insisted, poking him harder.

Hunter shuffled sleepily. “S’Christmas, I don’t gotta get up early.”

“Don’t you want to see what Santa brought you?”

Hunter cracked open one eye suspiciously. “Santa, huh?”

“Well, maybe not.” Jemma prodded him again. “Are you getting up?”

“Fine.” Hunter sat up, stretching and yawning. “I was hoping Santa would bring me a naked lady, but it looks like the old bastard’s disappointed me again.”

“I think he brought you something better.” Jemma tossed Hunter’s gift to him, and he caught it on reflex.

Hunter blinked, looking down at the object in his hands. “Jem, this is -”

“I know what it is,” she said patiently, catching her lip between her teeth.

“I’m really hoping you were joking about the Santa thing, because if _he_ knocked you up -”

“Lance!” Jemma laughed. “No, I’m certain it wasn’t Santa Claus who got me pregnant.” Not unless Hunter had dressed up in a Santa suit and she had missed it entirely.

“Good.” Hunter used his free arm to pull her close to him, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Because I’d be rather disappointed to have to raise another man’s baby.”

“I would imagine so.” Jemma tipped her face back and Hunter took the invitation to kiss her squarely on the lips.

“How are you feeling?” he asked when he drew away from her. “Nauseous? Tired? Achey?”

“None of the above,” Jemma said. “I only took the test because I was supposed to.”

Hunter smiled sleepily at her. “You and your schedules.”

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

“It did,” Hunter agreed, brushing another kiss across her cheek. “Too bad we don’t need to have daily sex any more.”

“We don’t _need_ to,” Jemma said, “but that doesn’t mean we _can’t_?”

“In that case, Dr. Simmons,” Hunter’s smile grew into a grin like the cat that had caught the canary, “can I wish you a very merry Christmas?” His fingers were already hooking under the waistband of her pajama pants and a delightful flush spread through Jemma at the anticipation of what he was going to do.

“Mr. Hunter, you are the father of my child,” she said, the words sending a giddy rush up her spine. “I would be very disappointed if you _didn’t_ wish me a merry Christmas.”

And a merry Christmas she had, indeed.

**Author's Note:**

> Merry (belated) Christmas, Libby! Thanks so much for putting up for me for all of 2020, and of course letting me drag you into the den of sin that is a Biohunter obsession. Here's to 2021 being even better! <3


End file.
